I'd like to go back to the past, To the days snowflakes danced in the sky. In winter, We can hold the glistening snow In both hands, Breathing the cold and fresh air. When the north wind blows hard, We can sit round the warm stove, ...
A. blow B. blows C. is blowing D. was blowing 相关知识点: 试题来源: 解析 D。“when she started reciting the poem”表示过去的一个时间点,在这个时间点风正在轻轻地吹,所以要用过去进行时 was blowing。过去进行时表示过去某一时刻或某一段时间正在进行的动作。反馈...
When the wind blows, Leaves fly From the trees Across the sky. 刮风时,树叶飘向空中。 When the wind blows, Kites fly, Rising and diving High in the sky. 刮风时,风筝飞起来,高高地挂在空中。 When the wind blows, Flags flap In the sky, Near and far. 刮风时,旗子在空中飘扬。 When the...
When the wind blows, Leaves fly From the trees Across the sky. 刮风时,树叶飘向空中。 When the wind blows, Kites fly, Rising and diving High in the sky. 刮风时,风筝飞起来,高高地挂在空中。 When the wind blows, Flags flap In the sky, Near and far. 刮风时,旗子在空中飘扬。 When the...
4 INT. DATSUN 4 Chris is holding a book from which he reads aloud the LAST LINE OF THE POEM... CHRIS I say...Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it. CARINE Who wrote that? CHRIS Well, it could’ve been either one of us, couldn’t it? He hands a book of...
The wind blows the ropes against the deck(甲板), and the ship’s bell rings regularly. I thought it could never be so noisy on a ship. But it is. I’ve got chickens as neighbors. They cluck in cages day and night. I’m glad of their company. Captain Cook gathered the seamen and...
Passing the yellow-spear’d wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards, Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave, Night and day journeys a coffin. ...
Prinya Pinying read a Thai poem, Carlos Castellanos read something by Pablo Neruda. And maybe Nancy Ding read an Akiko Yosano tanka? This was when the lagniappes were still in cassette tape form, so they may all be lost now. Maybe one copy of the tape will turn up as a flashback ...
I reach for the doorknob, not today. The cold wind blows outside. But if not today, then when. Fresh tears pour over the edges of my lids and spill down my cheeks- and I wonder when they will stop coming. I close the door and slide to the floor. ...
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd poem written by Walt Whitman... the infinite separate houses, how they all went on, each with its meals and minutia of daily usages .../